


Sidecar

by trillian_jdc



Series: Mystrade Cocktails [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Greg Lestrade, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mycroft Holmes is a Flirt, Mycroft To The Rescue, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Talking About Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29950494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Sherlock's said something annoying AGAIN, and Greg's at the end of his rope, so Mycroft takes care of him for a change.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Mystrade Cocktails [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759666
Comments: 11
Kudos: 81





	Sidecar

Mycroft had been passed a short report warning him of possible fallout from one of Sherlock's crime scene visits. It must have been something unusual, as Sherlock and the Yard had been working together rather smoothly lately. Mycroft was only alerted for an occurrence out of the ordinary run of events, so he was vaguely prepared for a surprise when his personal mobile rang. 

"Your bastard of a brother!" was all Greg was able to choke out. 

"Unfortunately not," Mycroft responded. "That would have required Mummy to be even more outgoing than she is." 

The humor defusal hadn't worked. Greg was still wound up. 

"Dunno what set him off, but he crossed the last line this time." The words were just tumbling out. "Christ, I feel a right idiot. I wasn't this angry when he told me I was being cheated on!" 

Mycroft thought it best for Greg's blood pressure to get to the point. "How may I assist?"

"Can you get me out of here? I don't need to be around people right now." 

"Of course, I'll send a car to take you home. Full discretion, no contact." Mycroft kept his voice professionally distant. He'd been looking forward to an opening for a chance to take care of Greg, who'd done the same for him rather a few times previously, but it was more important that he be soothed. 

"Bloody hell, don't give me that ice. I didn't mean you!" 

"Are you sure, Gregory? If you require isolation..."

"Just come get me, please. Take me to that silent club of yours."

* * *

Mycroft opened the car door from within, and Greg gratefully collapsed into the seat, his eyes closed, and his fists still clenched into fists. The tension radiated from him as Mycroft scooted himself back, quickly, to avoid being sat on. Although they'd been lightly flirting, now was not the time to press for increased physical contact. 

As the driver started them off, Mycroft dared to ask, "May I inquire what Sherlock did this time?" 

Greg was still wound up, the words spilling over each other, his arms waving in the air. "Dunno that I can explain that doesn't make me look a right tit. You know him, it's not just what he says, but the attitude. The smarm. He's so sure of his superiority, particularly when telling secrets." 

Although unseen by Greg, whose eyes were still screwed tight, Mycroft nodded. "Unfortunately he's all too skilled in stating implications and insinuations. I'm afraid he may he been overly observant of my work at the wrong time in his development, without learning the importance of discretion." 

Greg took a long breath, in and out. "I know he thinks of us all as there just to serve him, but I am not his sidekick, and I will not be treated as one. Dammit, the years we've worked together, and I still can't get any respect from him! Ignoring protocol, running over everyone, barking orders, insulting professionals for being professional. Today it was just too much, and I snapped. And he's hurting himself. The new kid won't work with someone she thinks is stupid enough to get my name wrong." 

Mycroft chuckled, briefly, barely an exhalation. "I believe he thinks that friends have in-jokes, and that is yours." 

"Yeah, well, 's still not funny." 

Mycroft dared to reach a hand out, wrapping Greg's fist in his long fingers and squeezing, briefly. "You did the right thing in removing yourself from the situation. We'll arrive at the Diogenes shortly. I know just the thing to relax you."

* * *

Greg seemed grateful for the silence as he was escorted through the halls into Mycroft's office. Mycroft made a mental note to arrange a membership at the next gift-giving occasion, as Greg would benefit from access to a quiet hiding place with all the comforts plus experience heading Sherlock off. And it would be lovely to have someone there he actually wanted to dine with, a respite from the required social interactions and favor-trading. 

Back focused on the here and now, he got Greg settled in the most comfortable armchair and began mixing at the bar cart. 

Quietly, only enough to be heard over the rattle of ice cubes, Greg spoke. "Can't tell you how much I appreciate this, Mycroft. Been a while since anyone's looked out for me." 

"How could I not assist, Gregory? You've been similarly kind to me, a relative of a work colleague who's imposed himself on you, so you could call it returning the favor." 

"You're more than that, Mycroft. I thought we'd settled that?" 

"One hates to assume." 

"Give over. Only one of us gets to collapse at a time, and today's mine. Called it already." Mycroft was pleased to see Greg finally begin a tentative smile. 

"Very well. Shall we be friends, then?" Mycroft returned his smile as he handed him an amber drink, garnished with a twist of orange peel. 

"Oooh, fancy," Greg responded. "Most definitely friends, Mycroft. Only no in-jokes, right?" 

"None of that type, no." Mycroft settled himself in the chair next to Greg's, gently clinking their glasses together. "Now, do you want to know, or do you want to taste?" 

"Lemme guess." Greg took a sip, then hummed in pleasure. "That hits the spot. Tart, rich, I get cognac, and orange... Sidecar?" 

"Correct. I hope the reference isn't inappropriate." 

"Eh, sidekick, sidecar, another one of these and I won't care any more." Greg continued his drink. 

Mycroft had placed his on the side table, running his finger around the rim and flicking the garnish hanging over the side. "You do know, Gregory, how much we both owe you, I hope? I will speak to him about his inappropriate behavior, although it is unlikely it will do any good."

"No need, Mycroft. World's better off with him in it, which is what matters." 

"And with you, as well. It isn't a choice." 

"He'll figure it out one day, I have to think."

"I hope so. Even my patience runs thin."

Running an eye over his drinking companion, Mycroft realized that Greg had had enough to drink that his bad mood had been forgotten, but he'd now entered contemplation. His next words bore that out. "Don't think of you as patient, but you really are, aren't you? Bet you've got all kinds of long-term plans and schemes running."

"Gregory..." Mycroft chided, fondly. "Don't we have more interesting things to talk about?" 

"No, no, lemme at this one. A paranoid man would think that means that you're being friendly just to ensure my continued willingness to tolerate your brother."

Mycroft swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He had to admit that had factored into his thinking, but it wasn't a primary motivation, and he would regret the loss if Greg believed it was. 

"But I don't think that," Greg continued. "Because I don't think you would be subtle if that was your plan. If you thought that of me, that I could be pressured into that kind of behavior, then you'd be offering me, I dunno, a promotion. Introductions. Nothing so crass as direct payments, although you'd probably know how to launder those. Maybe you'd go the other direction, try to force me to do what you want. But I know better. You've got power. If that's all you wanted, you wouldn't be shy about it. And you wouldn't have let me see you exhausted and hurting." 

Greg finished his drink, as Mycroft had forgotten his. He was astounded, sometimes, at just how clever this unassuming man could be. He wanted to hear more. "So what is my motive, then?" 

"Because you need a friend, and the best way to get one is to be one." Greg winced. "Christ, I sound like an advert. Because I like Holmeses, and you aren't sure why. A mystery, innit?" 

Mycroft stood up, off-kilter with the honesty flooding the room. With his back to Greg, mixing another round, he prepared himself to reveal enough to balance Greg's candor. He turned, crossed, and refilled Greg's glass. 

Greg looked at it with head cocked to the side. "Trying to get me drunk? Won't take much more." 

"You're quite the source of information this way. I do hope you've never had to go undercover in a pub." 

Greg laughed. "Nope. Regular beats. When I started, told me I was too pretty to be unnoticed. Now 'm too old." 

"Never, Detective Inspector. You are still quite attractive." 

"Perhaps that's what put Sherlock in a strop. 's jealous." Greg snickered at his own joke. 

Mycroft paused, brain running possibilities. "You may very well have hit on something there. Assuming he's aware of the past conversations we have conducted. He never did care to share his toys." 

"'m I your plaything, Mycroft?" 

"Heaven forbid that I disrespect an accomplished officer of the law in such a way. Although I did enjoy our game prior." 

"Right! I never did teach you Truth or Dare. Needs more people, though." 

"You've definitely had too much, Gregory, if you think I would engage in a pastime that involves revealing secrets in a group setting." 

"Shame. It'd be fun to get you and your brother and John and your PA and Donovan and Hopkins... I see what you mean. Suspect given the dares they'd come up with, we'd wind up arresting ourselves."

"I much prefer our tête-à-têtes without the interference." Mycroft still felt uneasy at taking Greg's confidences without returning his own. Time to expose himself. "Greg... I want you to know that I greatly appreciate the pleasure of your company, and more importantly, the trust you've placed in me. I have few opportunities to relax with someone so ..."

"Ha! Pretty speech, Mycroft, but 's not necessary," Greg interrupted. "Show me, don't tell me. I get words from the other one." 

"Very well." Mycroft again put his glass aside, stood up, and pivoted to face Greg, sitting in the facing chair. He could do this. He could trust Greg to know what he would like, and to try and give it to him, to show him how much he was wanted, to take care of him. 

He stepped closer, into Greg's space, until his legs were spread, one on either side of Greg's knees. Greg's eyes were wide, as he looked up into Mycroft's face, but there was challenge there as well. He set his own drink down. 

Mycroft leaned down, bracing his hands on the arms, caging Greg in the chair, bringing their faces close together. Mycroft ghosted his mouth across Greg's lips, on their way to his ear. "Are you relaxed, Gregory?" he murmured, before kissing the side of his neck, and then working his mouth around to nibble behind his ear. 

"Not any **more**!" Greg came out with in a strangled voice before grabbing Mycroft by the shoulders. He pushed him back, keeping him upright, as he stood up, bringing them chest to chest. "Trying to intimidate me, now?" Greg put his arms around Mycroft's shoulders. "Show your power? Manhandle me? That's my job." 

Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and suddenly pivoted, spinning them so he could drop into the empty chair and pull Greg onto his lap. "Very well. I cede control." 

"Trying to make me dizzy?" Greg said. "You're full of surprises. Good ones." He pulled Mycroft closer, into a proper kiss, as he settled himself in his lap, pressing against his surprisingly strong thighs. Mycroft's hands were running up and down Greg's back as Greg's hand found its way into the hair on the back of his head. They kept kissing. 

Mycroft had had no idea how much he'd enjoy Greg's weight on his legs, his solid weight holding him down. He was kept aware of his body, of their points of contact, of the taste of Greg's mouth and the firm muscle of his lips against his, of feeling instead of thinking. He wanted Greg to be out of his head, as well, comforted by touch. He'd been told people liked that sort of thing. It seemed a reasonable hypothesis, given the evidence. 

Greg broke away from his mouth. Mycroft chased his lips, until Greg laughed. "Give me a minute to breathe!" Greg put his head on Mycroft's shoulder and sighed. "You're so good at that," he said, as he teased the hairline at the back of Mycroft's neck with his fingers. 

Mycroft stretched his neck and preened a bit. Greg shouldn't have been surprised -- he should have known he'd be good at whatever he wanted to focus on -- but it was still comforting to hear. He kept rubbing Greg's back. "Thank you," he whispered. 

Greg's eyes kept closing. "Wish I was better prepared to enjoy this. Fraid you've done too good a job calming me down." 

"Then I am apparently **not** doing a good job, given what I intended." 

"Shhh, sweetheart. Now wouldn't be right to take this too far. I've still got your brother's words in my head, and neither of us want that distraction. Plus, 'm heavy. Don't want to damage those legs. Just hold me a bit, before I ask you to get that nice car to take me home." 

Mycroft couldn't argue with the man, who so clearly knew what he wanted and how to get it. That honesty was part of his appeal. He closed his eyes in response, following Greg's lead and cuddling him closer, just for a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be alternating viewpoints in this series, but I'd rather write what comes. 
> 
> I don't care for a sugared rim myself, but here's a [sidecar recipe](https://www.liquor.com/recipes/sidecar/). I love the drink; it's my go-to cocktail.


End file.
